Heimat
by Wespe
Summary: He hurriedly peeled back the curtain to see Zim staring blankly up towards the sky. "Zim!" Dib shouted; no response. "Zim!" again; no response. He shook him, "Zim, get up." He didn't make a move.
1. The Encounter

Zim sat preoccupied on his couch watching his television in one of the rare times when he had nothing to attend to. He sucked on a piece of Earth chocolate as he gazed upon the shining orb of projected light and sound while bearing a single straight face of observance. Next to him his robot henchman gazed lifelessly as well. A hypnotized gaze acquired through many weary secessions of viewing, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth in a torpid fascination. Zim swallows his melted chocolate. He scratches the back of his head. "I don't understand the purpose of this movie!" he says at last. We've been watching this Earth Human with a weird accent ramble about a desert now for 2 hours wearing a turban and nothing is happening!"

"Ssssh!" his Robot chastises him, "This is the best part!"

Suddenly, on the screen the very British accent of Peter O'Toole emerges in a almighty shriek: "Take no prisoners." suddenly the escapade of Bedouin camels and rag-tag militia Arabs race down the desert dune to the oncoming train.

Zim groaned after watching a seemingly endless movie that appeared to be going nowhere, at least to him. "This is getting boring. I'm gonna go and...do some stuff." he couldn't think of an excuse. Anything to get away from the insipid TV. His Robot Dog thing didn't mind. He continued to watch on excitedly.

He entered his kitchen where he a pot of coffee was brewing. He had taken up many earth customs over the years and had become accustomed to an earth diet. This included the substance the Earth race called: Coffee. Though, it had the strange effect of making him drowsy rather than alert. So he drank some in the evening to soothe him to sleep as he often found himself consumed in his endlessly tedious mechanics and sometimes lost touch with time. Which, by itself, contributed greatly to his decision to take up a normal Earth routine of taking the late hours to leisure and relax.

He poured the steaming liquid in his favorite cup which had boldly inscribed on it's face: "I love men" in all pink letters with a rainbow flag behind it. He hadn't comprehended the meaning of the cup he had purchased (stole) until he figured out that the two different humans were mates instead of two different races. All the while, he liked his cup more because of the novelty he got from remembering how stupid he was for buying (stealing) it, especially in a public place. He cringes as he thinks about it and lets the scalding liquid it holds soothe his innards.

His carefully sips as he leans on the counter, watching the clock on the wall and listening faintly to the echoes of the TV in the foyer/living room. He hears a deep voice come on abruptly followed by a groan of disappointment from his robot. He barely heard this booming baritone ring out: "Hi, I'm Robert Osborne and you're watching Lawrence of Arabia here on Turner Classic Movie..." followed by some spiel explaining the history of it or some weird fact.

He liked watching the inferior human films, especially older ones. It was a nice break from the constant realistic like projections and holograms he was always subjected to his day to day life around Irken machinery. He scoffs to himself. Human food, human leisure, human hobby. Pretty soon he'd be mowing the lawn too. If only he knew why. It was one of the many thing he had allowed himself after having his pedestal broken a few months ago when he finally realized he was alone on a desolate rock that nobody in the Empire cared about, and were probably happy he was there. Oh how the barbs of humiliation stung him. But in a way, he felt happier now, knowing there was no expectation for him to do anything. His only goal was that he owed unto himself: to keep on existing.

The world around him suddenly became filled with...life. A different sort of life that he hadn't realized. He suddenly cared what people thought about him. He suddenly took interest in caring for things and making his opinion known, not just another faceless and perpetual "new face" that blended in with the crowd at school. Which was strange to him. Trying to maintain his disguise and trying to be known too. What was he expecting? That maybe someday they would accept him? Not just a peer but for who he was, an alien. Never, and it was dreaming to think otherwise. If being around humans had taught him anything was that humans feared (and thus hated) what they didn't understand. And even if he could find acceptance, what would he do then? He'd always be noticed in public, which by itself isn't so bad but it get's annoying after a while. He preferred his solitude.

He suddenly realized he had come to the end of his drink. He casually tossed the remaining stale and lukewarm coffee into the sink and rinsed it down. He sighed to himself. Humans are such strange creatures; especially that Dib. Always pocking around me. Even now why they were both in High School. You'd think after a while he'd get tired of it, or give up, but no. Perhaps he found purpose in building himself up as some kind of savior of the human race and that was what justified it? Which is odd, because none of them liked nor wanted to associate with him anyway. One might think he wouldn't want to aide them with their lack of appreciation, but it wasn't his place to judge. Zim was Zim, and he was Dib. Whatever made Dib tick was none of his concern.

He threw his coffee cup into the sink and walked into the living room were Gir was still avidly watching the television after the commercial break had ended. "I'm going to bed. Be sure to turn off the main power coupler whenever you decide to shut off."

"Kay" the Robot half eagerly responded.

He descends the elevator to his lab to do some final adjustments before he slumbered. It was then as the doors of the pod opened a figure from the shadows grabs him and tackles him to the ground, pinning him in a strangle hold. He look at the figure, it's face only visible and grotesquely malformed but with a few rays of precious light those marking characteristics can still be seen, "Dib...?"


	2. Diagnosis

"What have you done Zim!" Dib tightened his hands on Zim's shoulders, wishing to cause as much discomfort as he could to the alien.

"What do you mean: What have I done? And what's wrong with your face!"

He bangs the alien against the wall. "Like you don't know!" he violently throws the alien several times. "Tell me the cure..."

"Fool!" Zim gives the human an equally pugnacious kick to the groin toppling him to the ground. "Even if I was responsible for for _horrible_ deformity to your face, do you think I'd share the cure?"

"I know, that's why I brought insurance." the ailing boy stated. He pulled a concealed pistol from his accustomed trench coat shoved it's barrel into Zim's face.

Zim stared at the boy holding the gun, his thumb cocking back the lever of the colt automatic. It's sleek and rifled barrel staring at him as deathly serious as its owner. He slowly puts his hands in the air. "There's no need for this. This is violence."

Dib in any other circumstance would have laughed at this blatant hypocrisy, but this was no time for a joke. Horrible boils had been forming on his face and body that were turning into hard knots that oozed puss and secreted blood when popped. It was not an earth disease or at least he thought not. He had looked long and hard for a diagnosis, but there was none to be found. And knowing the hyper-sensitive trigger happiness his dad had about experimenting on malformed and sickly souls, he decided to go with his gut instincts. "Give me cure Zim, or I swear your red alien brains will be all over the wall!"

"First of all calm down. Second, get the gun out of my face."

"Don't talk to me that way! Like we're equals! You are in no place to be making demands!"

"Then do it Dib." his face was as determined as his assailant's "Shoot me and end it. I don't fear death. If you really mean it, do it. Do it!"

He slowly puts the cock into it's normal position and let's his finger off the trigger as he looks down in disgrace. Zim slaps the gun from his hand which slides across the floor to the far side of the hallway. "Don't ever put a gun up to my face again, you hear me Dib! What the hell were you thinking?"

The hot tears flow down his craggy cheeks. He silently sniffles as his wipes his face with his trench coat sleeve, too ashamed to make eye contact with his nemesis. His cheeks flustering from the heat of the moment. Zim bites his lip, trying to suppress his own feelings of remorse, not wishing to appear sympathetic to his would-be attacker. How could he feel sorry for a human? Especially the human who had at least the potential to expose him? Granted they had known each other for a long while now, but they had never cultivated any sort of sympathy for one another. Was this all normal? To be feeling this all of a sudden?

At last with a sigh he tries his best to put the situation aside and help. "Here, follow me. I'll see what I can do." He leads the adolescent down the long winding corridor that exits out to his person work station. He motions for Dib to lay down on horizontally placed and quite alien settee looking bench. The crestfallen boy nods and does what he is told, no longer able to show any former dignity. The alien calls to his computer, "Computer, diagnose ailment."  
>A scanner appears and with a red beam scours ever nook and cranny of the earth boys face. After a moment the lifeless voice echoes out, "Diagnosis: <em>Yersinia pestis."<em>

"Explain!"

"Once deadly Earth disease commonly known as black death; caused massive mortality among mainly Caucasian populace of Northern and Central Europe. Now relatively extinct."

"Prognosis."

"Fatal if not treated. Can be cured with regular dosage of antibiotics."

"See Dib puke, you obviously just got a flea from that infested and horrid place you call a school and contracted a fatal disease."

"That's it? Antibiotics? What the...hell?" he collapses in his arms and reaches toward heaven, his arm then outstretched, "Why!"

"Yes, you are quite pathetic, now if you could just...get out of my house, That would be great."

"But why Zim? You could have shoved me out when you threw away my gun. Why?"

The aliens palms suddenly became unnaturally moist underneath his gloves. His sodden perspiration suddenly trailing down his head as well. "Well...I, I'm not sure. I guess I''d hate to see you go."

"Really?"

"Yeah..." he croaks out in a rather low voice.

"That's very...considerate of someone who's mission is to destroy the human race."

"Yeah well...not really my mission anymore."

"How's that?"

"I uh...I'm not an invader and it isn't my mission."

"Then why do you stay?"

"Because... I can't leave. I'm not wanted. I've been sent here to die. Whether by my own foolishness as I'm sure many of them hope..." he looks over to Dib and then to his gun on the floor, "Or by some rather bloodthirsty inhabitant."

"Zim I'm...sorry."

"Why? All you've ever done it hunt me! Five minutes ago you were holding a gun to my head threatening to blow my brains out!"

"I'm..."

"Get out! And don't show your filthy carcass around here again!" he jumps from his bench and makes for the exit. "And take your damn gun with you!" he picks up the gun and ascends the elevator shaft to the surface above.

Zim bangs his fist against his own bench letting his own tears overtake him. "Damn him! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why would I tell him that! Because I'm an idiot!" Suddenly his robot appeared from the elevator. "Gir! Secure the base! I don't want anymore unexpected intruders tonight or ever!"

His eyes turn a bright red, "Yes sir!"


	3. Accident

The wind was freezing. It was the kind of freezing air that was heavy with snow that now ladened the entire city-scape. The gray clouds loomed ominously overhead as a constant pour of white descended from above. The green alien shivered underneath his wool jacket and hood. It was so cold. He wasn't use to Earth winters yet, especially not in this place. But besides his foreign acquaintance with the weather, there was his skin. While centuries of living in the environment had given humans a type of partial resilience to the bitter cold, Zim had none.

He sighed as he trudged through the now well-trodden snow bank to the pavement, and then home a few blocks away. In his arms he carried his history book with his agenda neatly attached by a string that held it there. He grasped it tightly, shivering as the elements seemed to close in from all sides as if to consume him.

He was melancholy and the weather that was so foreboding didn't help. Everything seemed to go wrong all at once on this one particular day. He had been tormented by bullies, thrown into a locker to rot. He had complained to the principle who took favor with his oppressors, and gave him three days detention for "disorderly conduct". His teacher had given a pop quiz and he failed it miserably. To top it all off, and just when he had thought it couldn't get worse, he had sat in some gum and was carrying the remnants of which all over school on the seat of his pants, much to his eternal embarrassment. The worst part of which was that NOBODY had told him about. He had only found out when one merciful soul out of the heartless had the remorse or sympathy to tell him.

So it had been a pretty bad day. As he continued to walk on the crisp snow bedecked upon the sidewalk, he heard a familiar voice behind him, "Hey, Zim, wait up!"

"Great...just great." he moaned to himself, "Not now, Dib! I'm in no mood!" The awkward boy strode his way over to the alien whose face was intensely branded with a scowling look. "What do you want, Dib?" he said indignantly.

"Hey..." he panted, clearly out breath, his intense breathing protruding in the form of crystal vapor of carbon dioxide in the air. "I...wanted to apologize... about the other night."

His anger over the whole affair had gradually been fading over the past few days. But there was that nagging vexation, that bitterness that restrained him from giving absolution. Whether brought on by his own sentiment or the merely the means by which he would sever himself from this human further was not exactly clear. But, with a weary sigh and a low pitch he let his agonized feeling take him, "Go on..."

"I shouldn't have done what I did..."

His feelings of bitterness and disillusionment suddenly boiled into rage amidst the tempest wind of winter, "No, you shouldn't have! I..." he didn't have to time to answer. In one gigantic rush he lost his footing beneath him and slipped. His leg flew into the air and he landed on the pavement with a mighty thud.

"Zim!" The green-skinned boy held his leg in agony. He groaned and cursed and screamed as he bundled up, unable to shake the unbearable pain. "Zim, what happened!"

"I think...I broke my leg." he managed to breath out.

He felt his thin legs. "Does this hurt?" he squeezed.

"Ow! Yes, it hurts!" He tried to haul himself up, but he couldn't.

The other boy extended his palm, "Here, let me help."

He smacked his arm away with the back side of his hand. "Get away, filth, I don't need your help." He tried again to dislodge himself from the curb between the sidewalk and the street, but could not. "Can't...use...Pak, will be...exposed."

"Zim, let me help you!"

"No!"

"Then at least let me set it and give you something for a crutch so you can limp home."

"No! I don't need any of your inferior Earth techniques!" He tried again with his futile efforts, stuck like a turtle on his back.

"You and your damn pride! Fine! Be that way! See what I care." He begins to storm off.

After one last failed attempt and becoming frightfully aware of the looming cold, he repented at the last moment, "Wait!"

Dib turned around to see Zim."I...may need your help...just this once. But this doesn't mean I've forgiven you either and as soon as I'm back home everything is back to normal between us, kapieren?"

He reluctantly sighed. "If you say so, Zim."

"Now lift me onto your back."

Dib squatted beside him and placed his palms backwards to act a prop. Zim grabbed his shoulder while Dib wrapped his hands around Zim's thighs and hauled him onto his back. He then started off down the ice-covered and completely abandoned and desolate streets of the city.


	4. Travelling Home

**This story is dedicated to Talkstoangels77, whose ceasless work and tireless devotion have made this all possible. I would also like to give a thanks to 'The Almighty Authoress' whose stories inspired me to write an Invader Zim. Thank you and enjoy.**

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><p>The human slowly made his way down one snow-laden street after another, carrying the alien boy on his back every step of the way. He contorted every so often to keep his stiffening joints limber and to keep his blood flowing. They had traveled through the once familiar (and now abandoned) streets with a great deal of caution. The way back seemed much harder to find in the desolate landscape of white. The fog overhead increasingly dimmed his view of what was ahead. His footsteps were weary, his pace lagging, and his momentum was slowly faltering in the midst of the snow storm that seemed to be becoming a blizzard.<p>

"You okay back there, Zim?" he asked, motioning to him.

"Yes..." his voice sounded slightly wheezy, almost sickly.

"You don't sound it."

"Just get me home...please. I just need to get home. Where are we?"

"I think we're one block away. I just have to cross that building up there and we're back to the neighborhood."

The only response the exhausted alien could mutter was a groan into his courier's partly-wet jacket.

Dib walked a little farther. His muscles were weary but his heart no less determined. He felt the thrill of anticipation, the one moment of relief from the realization that the burden he carried upon his back would soon be lifted. Though, it was a burden he gladly bore.

He had come to know Zim over the years. At first, he felt the same way about him that any person who saw through his thinly-coated disguise would. He had tried to "foil"his nefarious plots, trying to be a thorn in his side. Considering all the times he had meddled into Zim's affairs, he was surprised he was still alive and not part of some pile of disintegrated ashes being sucked into a black hole. Over time, though, he found that Zim's neurotic plans usually came apart by themselves, with or without his interference. It had only been in the last two years of high school had Zim ceased to be an actual threat. No longer was he the scheming, socially-inept alien who didn't understand humans. He had become...more or less an abstract presence. He was still Zim, still as prideful and despotic as ever, but he also wasn't Zim, either. Maturity had a funny way of changing people, he guessed.

Oh, the cruel irony that so taunted him. Maturity? You're the one who held a gun up to his head! How immature is that! On the other hand, he had tried asking. Still, did you expect his answer to be any different? A megalomaniac's answer is always going to be the same, especially if you don't coax him. Which is why he felt so bad. He had done a horrible thing. He had broken what little civility existed between them in one stupid move. Now, how was he to reconcile? How was he ever to make things right again? Apologizing was the first step, but what else seemed uncertain. He was vehement in his denial. He truly wanted to keep himself severed. He sighed.

In a larger sense, this evoked the question of: "Why?" Why did he care about Zim at all? That little green menace had given him his fair share of headaches and worries over the years as well (remembering distinctly their quote-unquote 'Moosey Fate' that had nearly befallen him and his classmates, who he still didn't care about anyhow). Did he not have the right to use force? The answer was a resounding no. Which brought him back to the original question: Why did he care if Zim thought well of him or not?

Was there really some feeling there? A bond? Perhaps a spirit of lingering camaraderie from the few times they had worked together, but any personal sentiment? No. Liar! Fine, yes. He cared what happened to Zim. Probably egged on by some innate instinct to help a creature in distress. That common thread shared between all of humanity. Something, he wondered, if Zim knew about too.

He felt said alien on his back becoming ever heavier. He seemed like a dead weight now, no longer trying to flex his body with the "gallop" of his walk. He nudged him again. "Zim, tell me if you need to rest your leg, we can stop anytime."

His voice was a slur, a drowsy and debilitated whisper that seemed like it was fading. "That would be nice, Dib. I'd like that." He knew something was wrong when Zim answered an inquiry in such a polite manner. The weather was taking a toll on his body. His bright green skin was becoming paler.

The wind whistled loudly. Visibility was nonexistent and it was well beyond freezing. There were no lights on, the world dark and pale all around them. The once hazy sky of the late afternoon had vanished so utterly, so rapidly, it was hard to believe. Frost bound the barren city was like a slumbering catacomb or a dank tomb. Buildings became unrecognizable. All sense of direction was lost. They seemed to suddenly be in an ocean where they couldn't find which way was which. Forlorn, and forgotten.

A feeling of despair gripped Dib in the pit of his stomach. He was lost. What he thought would be a simple trip soon turned into a nightmare. The wind howled, the frost nipped, and death seemed to be skulking behind every bush, every shadow, every once vibrant corner that now offered only darkness. Slow and foreboding, he wearily dragged on, determined to get the alien back home.

"Here, Zim." Dib said, spying a nearby alley where several abandoned, large, and empty crates were tipped over on their sides. "Let's get out of the cold." He swung the alien around in his arms, now carrying the half-conscious alien bridal style to the dilapidated shelter. He nestled the alien in a crate, trying to fit him in. His longer legs meant that his military-style jackboots were outside the confines of the wooden enclosure.

Dib sacrificed his jacket, blanketing his former arch-enemy with its vital warmth. Now he only wore his lighter under-jacket. He shivered at the cold, but wasn't upset. He tried to keep optimistic, tried to keep smiling."You're gonna be okay, Zim. I'm gonna go and see if I can't get something to warm you up better."

The alien shook his head, silencing him instantly with his pale, ashen face."Dib, I'm sorry..." he managed to rasp out. "I shouldn't have been …...been so stubborn."

"No, no. Don't say that. If anything, it's all my fault."

"It doesn't matter now, Dib." His voice grew fainter and more forced."None of it matters."

He patted him on the shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, Zim, I promise. I'll never let anything happen to you again. Not now, not ever. Now stay here while I got get some help." His eyes twinkled with a fatalistic look, but the corners of his mouth gently puckered into a smile that he managed to contrive. Dib embraced him, "I promise."

He turned from the entrance of the crate, over which he then draped an old rug that he found nearby to keep the wind and cold out. His face becoming ever number as the coldness seemed to penetrate every thread and stab him like a cruel knife, he wandered straight down the street, his back aching from the weight of Zim's body that he had carried. He went by several abandoned houses until he finally came to one where the lights were still on. He shivered, being dumbstruck by the cold, and knocked on the big wooden door marked "1842".

A rather plump lady of her mid-fifties answered the door. She was wearing a blue sweater, inlaid with several snowflakes upon a wintry relief. She looked at the young man standing before her with a mild degree of shock. "Can I hep you, sonny?"

"Yes, ma'am. We got caught out in the storm and were wondering if we could use your phone." He answered politely.

"The power is down, I'm afraid. The entire city is out. We're running on our spare generator as it is now, so there's no way you'd be able to call somebody."

"Please, my friend and I need shelter. We'd pay you if you let us stay."

Suddenly, from behind her a visceral old man wearing trousers and suspenders emerged. "Who's that at the door!" he shouted, limping on his cane as he tried to get the door.

"Honey, this poor boy says that he and his friend need shelter from the storm."

The old man eyed him over as Dib pleaded, "Please sir, all we need is..."

"I've seen your type before! Lazy parasites who sit around in alleyways and waste government welfare. Robbing money from us good and decent folks!" He hadn't realized just how ragged his undercoat really was until that moment. He tried to appeal to the old man.

"Please, I'm not who you think I am..."

"You think I'll just welcome you into my home? I've dealt with your kind before and I don't trust 'em. So go about your business, and get away from here. And don't let me see you around here again."

"But..."

"Out!" He slammed the door of the domicile, leaving Dib dumbstruck on the frozen concrete porch. He bent his head, his heart weighing down his chest with discouragement. He slowly began to walk away, his hope becoming as gray as the night sky overhead. Crestfallen, for his plight seemed lost. But before he could trod one more step from the porch of the house, a bang on the window behind him ushered him to turn. He looked on the other side of the pane to see the lady who just had stood before him motioning him to the right. He looked around to see a back entrance, a small alley where a back door let out.

He went over to the door. It merely had a small cement step by which a person stepped into the house, and one singular light overhead. It was magnificently bright, ruminating his footsteps in the snow behind him, making the entire scene of frost and flurry glitter brilliantly. He waited patiently. A minute ticked by, and then another. His body was becoming brittle and chafed from such exposure, such numbing cold. He shivered and shook as his teeth clattered, now uncontrollably. It was miserable outside, and he wished nothing more than to be inside that nice, warm house. Another minute ticked by and he started to walk away, but the door finally opened and the lady appeared.

"I'm sorry. I had to do this behind my husband's back. Here, take this thermos, it's filled with hot chocolate. It's meant to last eight hours, so you might get through the night if you use it conservatively. And here, put on this jacket. It belongs to our son, but he's moved away to college so he won't miss it." She wrapped the nylon coat around the shivering boy. He felt an immediate warmth radiate around him.

The words were unspeakable. He was completely overjoyed, yet he couldn't find the words to show his gratitude. "Thank you. Truly, thank you. You have no idea how much this means."

"All I can do for a lost soul."

"You won't regret this. I will find a way to repay you for such a selfless act."

"No need to do that." Suddenly the voice of her angry husband could be heard, "Now scurry along, before my husband comes."

She gently closed the door and Dib walked away, grasping the thermos in his leather-gloved hands. He needed to get back to Zim, and fast. He started to run back down the street, towards where Zim was. The night was pitch dark now. He couldn't see anything save for a lamplight or two which managed to get power. All he could do was keep moving his legs. He was working on pure adrenaline. His lungs hurt, his feet hurt, his skin hurt, and all his bones ached, yet he continued on. He had made his promise to Zim, he couldn't let him down.

As he continued through the wintry slur, the wind still pouring down snow all around him, he found himself humming. Softly first, then more loudly. He couldn't think of the song. The notes just came. It could be just anything. He tried to remember, but his thoughts were becoming foggy. His vision blurred as he squinted and the ice formed around his eyelids. He just had to make it there...

He finally came to the crate where he left Zim. He hurriedly peeled back the curtain to see Zim staring blankly up towards the sky. "Zim!" Dib shouted; no response. "Zim!" again; no response. He shook him, "Zim, get up." He didn't make a move. His body was stiff and a palish-green now, devoid of any hue. His once vibrantly red eyes were now a dull burgundy. "Zim, answer me!". He put his fingers up to the alien's neck, fearing the worse. He tried to feel a pulse, some warmth, the expansion of his breathing organ, anything! He felt around his chest until he found one single patch of natural warmth. He sighed, but he couldn't rest. Not yet. His head ached and he felt like he just couldn't go on, but he still did.

He forced himself into the crate, using the rug to cover the entrance. He took some snow from outside and shoved it in Zim's face. He came back to life. His eyes flickered faintly and his voice was now no more than the hoarsest scratch. "Dib...?"

"It's okay, Zim, I've got something that will help. Here, drink this." He unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured out a cup of steaming chocolate into the plastic cup that came within the lid. He held the brim up to the alien's thin, pale blue lips. The hot mixture went down smooth. He drank it slowly at first, then more and more. Dib pressed his arm around him and felt his forehead; he could gradually feel some heat returning.

After 20 minutes or so, Zim's eyes returned to normal and his face regained some of his lost colour. Exhausted, he positioned himself on the earth-boy's lap so he could lay down in the cramped area of the crate. Dib let his head rest on his firm but well-padded shoulders, himself holding two arms around his thin alien frame, entwining himself so that they could share the heat of their bodies. As the raging blizzard continued on, the two enemies sat in complete solace inside their little niche, a pocket of life and hope inside a frozen tundra of despair. His vision blurring in a sleep brought on by the sudden warmth, Zim could barely keep focused. But he heard it whispered in his ear, just before he nodded off. "It's gonna be okay, Zim. Everything's going to be alright."

And so, in that foreboding place, they both fell into a great slumber. Mortal enemies, brought together by an odd circumstance, were now the purveyors of each other's survival. And as the ceaseless storm of Mother Nature's wrath continued on, undaunted, they, in the furnace of their own sentiment were bonded as one. For by their common suffering did the two forge their own love for the other, subconsciously vowing loyalty to the other upon mutual respect. Until those icy barbs of winter stole the very breath from their breasts, they defied it all to keep living, for not their own sakes but the other's; come what may.


	5. Caught in the Blizzard

The city was frozen. The frigid cold oppressed the municipality with its exacting presence. Even it's very life, the citizens who traveled the streets stopped.. Nobody went outside. Everything was snowed in and it simply kept coming in copious spurts of gale like blizzards that insured that any travel was a futile effort. So everyone stayed put in their now electrified home, watching, waiting, hoping that this seemingly endless storm would blow over soon.

It was not like other storms that had blown in. No, it was quite different. It had an ominous presence to it that seemed to engulf everything in darkness and shadow. It remained so, even during the brightest part of the day where one might expect the least glimmer of sunlight. Alas, there was none to be had. Those thick bellowing clouds of gray looming overhead blotched out the spectral light in one foul swipe, leaving many to despair in the twilight murkiness of its wrath, the temperature now being below freezing. Such was it on this day, when two former enemies found themselves protected by the most humble of shelters in the midst of the great tempest that ravaged everything around them.

The two had only enjoyed four hours of sleep. Precious sleep that if they had not been confined to each others warmth would have been fatal. But they had not died. No, quite the contrary, they had managed to live. Whether by coincidence, a miracle, or sheer luck, they found themselves still dwelling among the world of the living, but in the darkest confines of this nature made hell. No light. Not a single flicker. Not the moon, nor the stars, nor a beacon of life. Twas a gloomy and desperate site that the two gazed upon the weest hours of this early morning.

Not a single word was uttered between them for a few brief moments of semi-conscious awareness they shared while they each tried to maneuver around to stretch and rouse themselves. Finally, Zim arched his back, yawning furiously with his arms outstretched, his palms collapsed to meet the ceiling of the crate. At this point they were now both actively awake. Well aware of the very awkward position that each of them was in. Yet no one wanted to give the first word. To be the first one to break the solidarity. Remorseful yet battered and so many things to be, yet not the words to say them. It was a strange sight, the two people who earlier the previous day hated each other sitting together, one on top of the other in a box that could have become their tomb, both too hesitant to admit what had happened and how everything changed when by such occurrence they did survive.

Finally, the Earth boy gambled. He casually whispered, hoping to break the silence that seemed to so incredibly dense. "Good morning." he said at last.

"Is it?" he asked, equally nonchalantly.

"I don't know." he remembered the watched on his wrist. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal the small black gadget whirring away on its axis, "It's twenty five minutes after three...in the morning."

Zim groaned. "Do you know where we are?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

Zim groaned. "No idea, nothing at all?"

"It all looks the same to me. I can't make out one building from another."

The small talk was not addressing the gigantic elephant that seemed to be squashed in a 6 by 6 crate with them and it was suffocating. Zim took a step into the audacious, taking a deep breath he asked at once the inevitable question that had flustered him since the few hours previously "Why did you save me?"

"What do you mean?" Dib asked, slightly taken aback at such a bold question.

"You could have left me here. I would have been dead and you could finally "save" the human race. Everything you ever wanted, yes? So why come back?"

He puckered his chin, trying to think of the right wording. He trod a needles edge here and one wrong word and the whole situation would be compromised. "I...uh..." he hesitated longer "Well, I couldn't just leave you out there to die, could I? I mean, I do have a heart after all."

"You never acted that way before..." he said, letting his softly treading voice choke out his slow stiffened, almost silent sobs. He sniffles back, trying to keep his voice from cracking, "But you know, I don't even understand, after all the thing I've put you through, how you could take pity on such an outcast like me."

"You're not an outcast Zim."

"Yes I am!" he breaks down, unable to hold it back any longer. He turns and shields his convulsing face in his forearm. All the sorrow of many years suddenly brimmed over like a glass that is full. In one gigantic out-pouring, his soul contented then on those feelings which so hardly could be ignored any further.

"Zim..." he says not being able to think anything else to say. Except he want to try to comfort the despondent Irken. He pats holds the alien. Letting his face sink into his breast where it expounds the bitterness and suffering accumulated from many years of neglect and abuse that he suffered at the hands of his classmates and other fellow humans. Finally Zim looks up at him. His crimson eyes sparkling like diamonds. Those big expressive eyes painted with the shimmering light that seemed to radiate around them.

"Dib..." he said clenching him by his coat. "I'm sorry" he said in a low voice.

"It's alright. It's natural to cry." he said trying to alleviate and assure the Irken that he was not viewed as weak or inferior.

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean...I'm sorry for how I've treated you over the years. I realize you must still be angry..."

"Zim I was never angry."

"Why?"

"Because you mean more to me than any other friend I've ever had. Others stop and laugh, but you and I Zim, we're the only two who truly understand each other."

"You think so?" he sniffles wiping his eyes on shirt sleeve.

"Yeah..." he was interrupted. He sniffed the air a few times. Looking around. "Do you smell that?"

"Ummm...I don't have a nose,"

"Yeah, I always wondered how that worked..."

"What do you smell?"

"Smells like something's burning."

"Burning?"

"Yeah..." suddenly a thin haze of smoke filled the crate dim. "Zim, I think we need to leave."

"What?'

"Get out, quickly!" he pushed the alien out the end where the rug was. He crawled out on his stomach. Then there was a blood curdling sound: a series of dull explosions that seemed to crackle and clatter like the worst fireworks. Small whizzing projectiles flew past Zim's head. It took him all but five seconds to see on the other end of the alley 4 or 5 men dressed in white snow suits holding automatic rifles in their hands. Another series of gunning rattles and blazing barrels. The bullets ricocheted all around Zim as he collapsed into the snow to avoid them holding his broke leg as he tried to escape. Dib crawled out behind him trying to make his way into the snow, crawling on his belly. "Run Zim!"

"Zim tried to get up to his feet only to have a few more blasts of bullets go around him. He heard on of them yell, their accents were heavily laden with what seemed like a foreign accent, "Get off our street your filthy bastard!" Zim and Dib followed close behind one another bending their knees, moving as fast as they could away from the danger. Behind they saw their shelter go up flames, consumed by bottles of burning liquid thrown by their assailants. While they burned what little shelter that he and Zim had managed to acquire they laughed hysterically in revelry at the two fleeing interlopers. Drinking what appeared to be rather large cases of vodka while discharging their rifles into the air in many rapid bursts of fire.

Once they rounded the corner of the alley they stood up and ran, as fast as the freezing wind and ice covered road would allow them, the taunts of their attackers trailing on the air behind them. Zim hobbling on his good leg as Dib put his arm to support him. After a few minutes they stopped and looked back at the palish red glow produced by the flames that were consuming there once occupied shelter. And then they realized they were outside again. In the frigid grasp of winter.

Dib tried started back from where they had come. "Dib, where are you going?"

"I forgot my jacket, I'm going to get it."

"No! You'll be killed for sure!"

"I'm gonna freeze to death without it!"

"Dib, I'm begging you, don't go."

"I have to Zim. Just wait here."

"No I won't!"

"Zim, don't make this harder than it has to be. I'll go back and get the jacket and be here before you know it. Trust me."

He knew the imminent peril lay before him, but he knew to argue with him was futile. He's more stubborn than me, thought Zim. If anything he was right; he needed that jacket. They didn't a chance without it. Zim embraced him. "Just be safe you fool." he whispered with more than a hint of sincerity,

They gazed into each others eyes for what seemed like hours, each seeing themselves in one another's gaze. "Trust me, I'll be fine." he reassured him.

With that, Dib disappeared into the wintry night air, leaving Zim leaning on the brick apartment wall. He shivered. He has on his own, with Dib's original jacket draped over his body he was still cold. So very cold. He couldn't stand it out there, but he had to, he had to wait. He couldn't have felt more nervous as the minutes passed by the Dib still hadn't returned. One after another, the minutes ticked by. Suddenly he returned, wearing the nylon jacket he had been wearing since last night when he returned to him at the crate. He was ragged.

"Dib are you okay! Did they hurt you?"

"Those...those guys can't shoot for apples" Zim looked at him. He was bleeding across his neck where a bullet had grazed him.

"Dib, we gotta go. I'm feeling fainter and we need to get you to the hospital"

"Yes, either that or we gotta find shelter and quick."

The two companions hurried along the abandoned and dark street of the poorest section in town. Many of the apartment buildings that littered the street were boarded up and abandoned. They tried to move as fast as they could through these ruins. It wasn't safe to be here anymore. Going into any of these buildings they might stumble across someone's drug operation or some deranged lunatic and meet and untimely end. They kept walking, and like a lead weight, Zim's previous ailments came back to haunt him, hitting him full force now. He grasped his leg in pain. "Only a little farther" they kept telling themselves, just a tad farther.

The houses seemed to extend on forever with no sign that they were getting anywhere. They were simply traveling between two walls of brownish red with a face of pure black above and gray below. Like an endless treadmill their journey didn't seem to be ending, and their flight became slower and slower until they were merely limping along and then collapsed altogether, unable to go and farther, no sign of light or life anywhere The wind and the snow and the ice and the cold had taken their toll. They consumed the two of them equally until they found themselves in snow, finding their joints so pained they could no longer move.

Their speech was now slurred and took very long. They both breathed very hard in between pauses, and it couldn't connect their thoughts. A spirit of finality sweep the two compatriots, whose short journey seemed to be coming to an end.

"Zi-i-m...ma-ma-ma le-le-legs, I ca-ca-n't feel my legs."

"Me either. Ow..." he groaned.

"You know...what the best part...about the cold is Zim?"

"No, what?

"You don't have to worry about sun burn. Ever been to the desert? It's quite hot."

"I wish...I wish I wa-wa-as there, but at least you're here...with me."

"I heard...it's...shit. Except for the stars...they all seem..." his voice trailed off. He tried nudging Zim who made no more noise, but to no avail. "...so close..." he dropped his head on the alien's thigh, sitting there as the winter storm swirled all around them and they both laid down the struggle.

Next to the curb they both lay, two friends now wrapped in each others arms. What was born out of spite, the winter reconciled the two together through its awesome and destructive force. Though it matters little, whether the two lived or died, that is of little consequence. It is their story : that of truest morals and principles laid down to all: that of love and forgiveness. Thus, should we all strive for such things. To love one another as we would ourselves. It is in that way, we may all find peace amidst a barren and desolate storm of life, so foreboding and cruel at times. Peace to those who would persecute us, and to reconcile it with our souls. Peace in one another, and in ourselves. Peace to eternity.

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><p><strong>FIN?<strong>


	6. Arcadia

**Hey everyone. Thought I would update the story. Never was one for sad endings anyhow. So without further adieu, the newest chapter of "Heimat". Enjoy.**

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><p>He opened his eyes, batting them several times as he rubbed his lids underneath his glasses which he then pushed up with his index finger, gently caressing the bridge of his nose. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his retinas to the light. As the image began to focus, he stared in amazement at what lay before him. "Where...where I am?" What met his eyes was completely unexpected. He was lying in the midst of a grove of tall grass, green, luscious, tall grass, brimming with life and energy. The gentle croaking of frogs harkened in the distance, filling the air with their melodious chant. "What is this?" He got up and brushed off his attire, looking over the patch of plains where he found himself. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was he actually where his eyes made him out to be? "Is it real?" He let those words echo.<p>

He was in a valley with gentle rolling hills that led to a lake, where the water was sparkling like millions of crystals against the sun. He peered out upon the perfectly-fashioned and vibrant pasture that stretched before him, gently curving up the rolling hills that seemed too immaculate to be imagined. Beyond where those hills ended and gradually became flatland he saw an unusual sight. Dotting the landscape were hedgerows of neatly trimmed shrubbery that seemed to wind around in one large, but not unsightly, garden. By this garden flowed a brook of small size, with many smooth and colorful pebbles on the bottom, that emptied out into the lake that was next to the tall grass where he still stood. Around all these places, a vast multitude of flowers, some of which he recognized as tulips, daisies, and chrysanthemums, and many others whose names were unknown to him, stood perfectly arranged all in tidy,well-defined plots and places.

He felt the wind blow, neither hot nor cold but a lukewarm perfection, mild in temperament and soothing in feel. Floating on that breeze, the unique smell of all those flowers combined with the scented tang of a distinct incense-like perfume made his nostrils tremble with enchantment. Dib took a large breath of air, trying to inhale the overwhelming freshness all at once. Was what he was seeing real? Did this place exist? He didn't know for sure whether he could believe it, as everything seemed to still be a blur. Perhaps he was imagining it all?

But how could that be? He felt the warm rays of sunshine hitting his face. He felt the sharp blades of grass run through his fingers. He smelled the fresh dew on the petals of the heathers. He heard the gentle babbling of the brook and the croaking of the frogs. He saw the blue mountains majestically towering beyond the valley, their snow-peaked tops glimmering like jewels against the pure blue sky. It had to be real! It had to be! He pinched himself, his eyes firmly clenched, desperately wishing not to be deceived. The sharp sting of his hands pressing his fair skin stabbed him, and he reeled his arm back in pain and opened his eyes, only to find he had not departed from this far-flung Arcadia.

He let himself wander through the swampy ground toward the lakeside, gently stomping through the miry clay only to realize he had no shoes. His feet sank into the wet dirt, the sand sweeping between his toes sending shivers up his neck in a type of naive ecstasy he hadn't felt since he was a child wading through the ocean waves, letting the foaming water rush over him while his sister looked on from the shore. All those fond and gentle memories suddenly emerged like brilliant visions into the very forefront of his brain. That lighthearted child's play in the middle of summer, when everything felt perfect...He felt a slow rise of emotion welling up into his breast. He hadn't felt this much...overwhelming joy in he couldn't recall how long. It seemed like those burdens that had weighed him down dematerialized in a single instance of fond recollection and he found himself overcome. His emotions spilled out into the warm streaks of tears running down his face, their composition no longer of bitterness or frustration or anger. They were like the sweet residue of spring honey, sweet and unburdened by the frost.

At length, his tears desisted and he allowed himself a small respite as he sat on his knees, half-buried on the shore, his head bowed as he let his open palms feel the grains as they slipped through his fingers. He sat there, at a loss of what to do next. The pure sensation of taking it all in made it impossible for him to focus on exerting his energy into any one action. He could only sit there, meditating on his inner sanctum of thoughts and actions that seemed to rattle his head so that he could scarcely think on anything otherwise, though he feverishly wished to do otherwise.

At last, he quieted his inner conflict and rose from his knees, wiping himself off. He glanced once more upon the spacious land that seemed to beckon him somehow. As if its fanciful whim was beckoning his soul, like wind chimes softly ringing with the breeze...He wanted to follow it. It summoned him, enticed him, thrilled him onwards. He slowly began to feel his feet move up the grassy plain, gently striding past the delicate flowers, his body seemingly floating over the expanse of fields like a ghost. His every motion, his every, singular breath, all in one accordance, all tuned to one mysterious waltz that pressed him ever forward.

Suddenly, it emerged unto him, a bright orb of celestial light gleaming like the sun over him. Its radiant illumination shone incandescently, making it near impossible to look at straight-on. The orb was bright white in appearance, its auroral beams creating crisp edges and its presence all-consuming. He trembled, being much amazed and alarmed as he covered his eyes with his arm. But soon, the light started to gradually fade, the brightness becoming less lucid. From the midst of this great tumult, a soft voice traced itself, an echo trailing slowly behind it. "Dib..."

He looked up, now not as startled. He approaches the voice. He knows it. "M-m-o-mom?'

"Dib..." The voice said again.

Yes! He did know that voice! It was her! "Mom!"

Within of the midst of that heavenly sphere stood the figure of a lady, clad in a toga of sorts. Her red hair, free and precipitous, served to contrast her fair skin and dark eyes. Her smile was warm and inviting, just as he remembered her. Her cheeks still carried those distinct dimples, those small facets around her chin. Her arms extended as if for an embrace and she looked at him, showing her mild temperament of kindness and love.

He found himself running towards her, racing furiously to meet her, his eyes focused clearly on her distinct face. He reached out, ready to embrace that beloved matriarch whom he had not seen for so long. Yet all around him, the color started to fade. The vibrant grass started to vanish into an abyss. Shortly, all of it faded away, though his mother still remained. They were the only two beings of existence, floating in vast space of black that seemed to engulf everything, and he found his steps becoming less and less frequent as his mother, too, seemed to become more distant with every step he took. Exerting all his strength, he dashed forward madly, putting forth his hand, trying to grasp her palm. He was inches away, almost able to touch it. One last great exert of energy and he would have had it.

Only then, however, as the bond seemed to be so intimately close, did she vanish completely, leaving him utterly alone in the darkness.


	7. The Church

**This chapter is dedicated to Coraline15 who gave me the inspirati****on to write it. And who also generously illustrated this particular chapter, by the link provided here: **coraline15. deviantart. com/#/d46pvk2

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><p>He lay there, unmoving, those wide red eyes of his concealed under his serene eyelids as he slumbered on in the vast complexities of his own mind. His face, so radiantly unique and beautiful, seemed unburdened by the cares of those manic forces which seemingly sought to destroy them. Close by his chest, those tender arms laying at his side, the palms of his hands were outstretched as if inviting him to come closer. The human gently placed his own hands within them, and clasps to them as tightly as his earthly strength will allow, not wishing to let go, not wanting to depart from his touch.<p>

He looked deep into the alien's solitary features that seemed to baffle him as any paradox would a philosopher, wanting, most sincerely, to know what he was dreaming about. Did he have relatives where he came from? Friends and other people who missed him back on his home planet? Did he really want what he had always professed? Did he have aspirations of other things before he was sent here? Did he fantasize for realities too convoluted to become real in the very nether region of his mind, but hoped they would? Did he dream about him? He could only hope as much. A bead of hot, lucid sweat trickled down his face and gently jumped from his chin, plopping onto the marble floor below with a singular, dissident thud. He sighed as deep, convulsing shivers rippled down his delicate spine and he tried to remember exactly why. Why had this all happened?

The merciless blizzard, the inhuman suffering, the agonizing pain, the soul-crushing hardships, the ravaging toil, and this one, particular alien, this abstract creature from another world who lived almost next-door. Why had he met this strange alien, the being who made everything that had happened to him oddly bizarre, but a creature so innately incompressible he seemed to evade all attention or means of detection? Was it the cruel designs of fate working through some celestial power to conspire against him to punish him for some karmic event, or was it an accident? A single chance amongst the vast multitudes of possibilities and he being lucky enough to simply be in its path? Maybe it was destiny that had caused their fortuitous meeting to occur for some greater good which he could not fathom within his mortal understanding. It did him little good to ask these questions. He didn't believe in fate, or destiny, or any of that psychic mumbo jumbo that he heard fortune tellers dish out to make a living, but deep within the pit of his consciousness he continued to think over the odds of such an event occurring,only to come up empty. Vaguely empty. Did he really care so much?

He respected the alien much more than he ever wanted to admit, even unto himself. No! Not just respected, but liked, desired. He was for, all intensive purposes, the answer to all but his wildest dreams. In essence, he was the absolution, the proof, the ultimate finality in his drive to continue his quest into the weird. The tantalizing prize that dangled seductively close to the tips of his fingers, but always managed to elude his grasp. That one thing that, if shown, would have gotten him acceptance. Not just acceptance, but the esteem. Yes, the recognition and homage of all his fellow men. The adoration of generations to come. His name written down in every history book, in every language. All by his fellow men...

He was to be envied by his fellow men. So contrived, so weak, so utterly inept at seeing beyond what they wished to see. Sometimes his inner mind fancied that he could be left in the dark with all the others, to be un-labored with the burden of being able to see but also not be listened to and not hear each bitter indignation thrown against him. How he hated their cruel laughter, their diabolical mockery, their closed-minded inclinations. Tearing down all of his ideas, rejecting him at every turn. He silently balled his other hand into a fist of anger.

At first it hadn't mattered to him much, friends and his own social status. He was accepted, for the most part. Being popular had never appealed to him much and so he never tried to be the center of attention. If others wished it, he was more than happy to give it to them. And while this made him no new acquaintances, there were a few people scattered here and there amongst the many faces in his school who he honestly could have said were his friends. But as he grew older, his interests changed. No longer was he content with being average, no longer did the normal trappings of school intrigue him. He plunged headfirst into discovering the most illusive and arcane shadows that lurked within society, those unexplained threads lingering on the tapestry of life held together by conspiracy and intrigue; those things he and others called the paranormal. As he went farther, however, those friends dwindled more and more into an oblivion as he watched himself be transformed by his obsession. Until one day there was nobody left to see, and he found himself in the midst of a vast sea of people, but utterly alone.

That was...until Zim showed up. That mysterious interloper who suddenly appeared as a knife in the dark, threatening to silence all under a cloak of ignorance. He had to do something, anything! Anything, to stop this fifth columnist from another world that lingered in his midst.

What had started as a earnest longing to seek acceptance or maybe even vindicate himself to his peers turned into a rivalry of domination between them as each opposed the other. Two centrifugal forces doing battle, one for his manic and fanatic loyalty to his homeland which sought the complete conquest of the known galaxy, and one native human whose eyes were opened and would do anything to keep him from achieving his objectives. It was a war, and as far as he could tell, it was a stalemate. Hopelessly locked into a progressive conflict that never seemed to end. And as with any war with two individuals who both were willing to do anything in order to obliterate the other to achieve their objectives, the front lines were starkly barren and unremorseful. That was...until recently.

Until recently, they had still been the most expedient of enemies. Neither one being discouraged, neither one yet willing to yield the battle. It was only when he asked Zim for a temporary cease-fire to this caucus-race of a rivalry that the other agreed hesitantly to the conditions (as to why, that still alluded him) of the pact which called for all hostility between the two parties to end for one week. A week had come and gone. The strange thing was, they had yet to resume the fray. They each waited for the other, like two men looking over the lay of a complicated chess board, each biding their time until the other one made one false move, watching for an advantage to make itself known. This never happened, and so it continued. A week became two weeks, two weeks a month, and so forth, until Dib found himself having to try to remember why he was fighting Zim in the first place. Often telling himself what Zim was and what his purpose was.

He looked now upon that alien he had sworn to fight to his last breath lying on the table before him. As much as he had always wished for a moment like this in his youth, to be able to have his enemy humbled before him, he never thought about the circumstances by which they would arrive at it. Being at that point now a few years after they had first met each other on that sweltering March day so long ago, it was much less glorious than he ever imagined it would be. The one he hated and reviled for so long was in his grasp, and he wanted to preserve his life?

He couldn't understand how the bitterest hate could foster kindness and friendship. Was it human weakness to feel pity or sympathy for those who have also vowed their destruction? Or was it something more? Could it be that they were more than a brain, organ, and flesh all held together by bones? Was there something unique that all of them shared that would make them feel this collectively? Was it possible that each living being had a soul?

All these things he thought about as he stood there, the alien's hand still clasped in his own. His head bent over, as if pleading with him. "Zim..." he said at last, "I never...I never wanted things to be like this. I..." he paused briefly as his eyes swelled up with moist tears. "I never meant to hurt...you." The last word came out as a high pitched whelp. "Zim, please...please, wake up. Please Zim, you're the greatest friend I ever had...don't go."

Such a ruthless person, yet so delicate a creature. "Zim, I don't want you to die... I need you. Please don't...don't leave me here all alone. I'm...afraid of being alone. I'm afraid..." he let the hot tears flow down the side of his face as he got onto his knees so his head rested against the alien's shoulder. "Please wake up. Please." He begged as his tender, lamented cries transformed into bitter sobs of anguished sorrow and regret. He allowed himself to nuzzle the soft fabric of his sleeve, wishing he could understand.

"Dib...?" A weak voice moaned out. His bleary eyes gazed upon a conscious Zim, barely able to lift his eyes open. "What's...going on?" He groaned. Dib embraced him, not giving him time to answer.

"You're awake! Thank God!" He let his tears continue unabated, not for sorrow, but for joy.

"Is something...wrong?" he asked, seeing this most peculiar sight.

"No, Zim." he answered plainly, "Not anymore...Not anymore.."


	8. Evening Mass

Silence. It had a radiant beauty. There was not a sound to be heard in the venerable sanctuary, save the dull, soft, listless echoes of footsteps that pattered hauntingly against the marble floor below; softly rebounding like mighty ocean waves against the ancient battlements and studded reliefs that were fixed upon the wall, glaring ominously from their perches hidden in the darkest corners far above the heads of those mortal men below. Grizzly gargoyle-like creatures from the nether region of the abyss, dealers of death and sorrow commanded by heaven's hand. Cold, hard, rugged pieces of lifeless stone, their chiseled complexions shown by only the faintest of light, which cast many shadows over the pallid masses, distorting every facet and seam, and making their many ghastly features of hellish incarnation all the more terrifying with the chilling machinations of the damned who surely suffered their wrath in the eternal torment commanded by that greatest deceiver of all men: Satan. Here, the very fire of the depths of Hell became clear. To this purpose sat those sculptures of stone, living yet alive, surreal yet vividly perfectible, inspiring in presence but ultimately adumbrate by the saints and bishops gazing ever vigilantly far above. Their mighty staffs were held attentively yet with great humility by their sides, their features illuminated and beautiful. It was a strange scene to any who could see it, yet a recognizable sign of His authority. Saints and demons both residing under God's house.

Then, like a vibrant horn rising from the deepest bowels of the building, the plaintive sound of a singular voice broke the silence, as a rock does to a window, shattering it into so many tiny fragments that scatter haphazardly into the floor. Majestic, beautiful, solitary. Floating gracefully yet ominously upon the wind like the sweet incense that began to haze the interior of the church, ascending far into the air, past the stony perches of the demon stones upon the ramparts bold. One voice, whose song, uttered in that tongue of ancient days which seems so abstract, gave creed to the humility and integrity of which its sacred verses reflected.

From far below, on the steeped altar in the front of the church, the sacred smoke rose from the burner as it swung back and forth. The father, standing with the chains connecting to the silver fixture, poised upright and composed, his church vestments neatly fixed upon his body and his miter snug upon his head, singing loudly from the illustrated prayer book propped open on the podium before him. To his right, a young boy of sixteen, or there about, stood donned in similar apparel, holding a single, flickering red candle in his hands.

He was a small boy, not holding much in stature; being of a height little more than five foot six. His chest was not burly, nor was his mien over-posturing in any sort of form. One could hardly tell he was the age he claimed to be. So youthful in appearance, one stood to wonder if he had gone through puberty at all. His size not withholding those oddities, he also possessed a strange complexion. His hair, given leniency to grow on all sides, was a dirty blonde. Though, one could hardly tell, for there was almost no blonde to be seen at all except in the locks that glinted with a shine of a golden hue underneath his hair's somewhat shaggy edges. And the skin that his body bore was coated in deep bronze tan, magnifying his presence immensely, for although Caucasian by birth, he was easily distinguishable from another race who was born with such a tone naturally. To such a deep extent this prevailed, that had he covered up those few places that did allude to his aforementioned heritage, he could have passed for a Southern European or maybe even a Turk. This was Ermanno. The adolescent, sixteen year old step-son of the priest stood with his father at the front of the church as they conducted daily mass to an almost empty church.

Behind the priest and son, who continued chanting from the liturgy book, sat the odd pair of wanderers who had found themselves in the focus of this comparatively strange haven. Sitting side by side within a benched pew near the middle of the assortment of seats, the alien and the human gazed on silently, watching the strange spectacle unfold as the service continued. Their faces were emotionless, unmoving, staring, yet not attentive. The engrossed feeling of discord lingering between them in such a sedated and peaceful setting was a queerly nauseating experience, both feeling his own brand of guilt, regret, sorrow, or despair, but mixed together with a dollop of hope beside that that made it all seem unreal. Though they said nothing of their past experiences the night before, the two acknowledged them quite honestly. It is not, after all, the decision to play a game that is the most crucial factor in who will ultimately win, but what opening moves will cultivate the best outcome. So it was with these two, each still bearing that eternal flame of rivalry, yet trying to underscore it with what, in essence, was a gentleman's conduct, so as to not offend the other party.

It was finally Zim who spoke on his own accord, breaking the silence between them with a murmured whisper. "I'm hungry." he said cheerlessly.

"What?" The look of astonishment of Dib's face presented itself quite well as he cocked his eyebrow to one side and gazed at the alien.

"I'm hungry." He said again, just as plainly.

The human pondered it over, thinking his response over tentatively before speaking. "But...you've never..."

"Eaten...?"

"Yeah..."

"Well," He said with a sigh, taking off his Irken kitbag, "My thing appears to be busted..."

"Your thing?"

"It's called a PAK."

"What does it do? Well...besides giving you those spider legs and other gadgets."

"It gives me nutrients. Allows an Irken to survive any climate, not matter how...inhospitable."

"So what's wrong with it?"

"Don't know... it appears one of the gears has jammed. Which means it's useless." He gently placed it on the floor. "At least until I can get it repaired."

"So how are you going to survive now if you need it to live?"

"Just like any other creature...I'll have to eat your disgusting Earth food."

"How do you know it's disgusting if you've never tasted it?" Now it was Zim's turn to raise his eyebrow and stare at the Earthling with his unnerving gaze."What?" Dib said, trying to banish the stare.

"Have you seen the cafeteria food at your...I mean our school?"

"Well..." he scratched the back of his head, "That's a given, but there are plenty of places that serve some decent stuff."

"You mean like MacMeaties?" There was more than a little condensation in his voice.

Dib gagged himself at the name of that particular eatery. "All fast food joints suck. They serve cholesterol on a bun!"

Zim put his finger under his chin and pondered a brief moment. "I guess it makes little difference. I'm going to have to eat something eventually." Dib nodded his head and held his grumbling stomach, now acutely aware of how hungry he actually was.

They both continued to watch the service as the priest continued, now reciting passages from the Book of Psalms from his pulpit on the far left of the altar.

"So..." Zim started, "What do Earthlings believe?"

"Lots of things..."

"You mean there is no one belief? No one religion?"

"Not really. To each to his own, I suppose." He said, mulling it over, "Though, there are several big ones."

"So which one is this one?"

"Which one?" he asked, not understanding.

"This..." he holds his arms out, "place."

"This belongs to Christianity." He said, trying to be as thoughtful to what Zim understood as possible.

"Chris-ti-anity." He tried to enunciate. "And what do they believe?"

Dib groaned mentally at having to explain the tricky subject of religion to an alien. "They believe a carpenter named Jesus, who lived two thousand years ago was the son of God in human form after he was supposedly born of a virgin and went around doing miracles, after which he was executed and rose from the grave."

"Uh-huh.." he said, intrigued, "And this 'Jesus' fellow, does he rain death and destruction down on his enemies?"

"No...he's suppose to be a benevolent God, loving all without judging. Unfortunately, his followers don't really do a good job of that; what with the crusades, and inquisitions, and all that."

"So he is the son of God, which also makes him a god, yes? So you worship two gods?"

"No, they are one and the same, and there's another one called 'The Holy Ghost'."

Zim looked up and squinted his eyes, holding up his hands like a scale, trying to see if he could find some logic after a second weighing. "But how..."

"Don't ask me!" Dib said, waving his hands. "I don't even go to church. How am I supposed to know this stuff?"

"Oh...Can I ask one more question?"

"Sure," Dib responded, sounding a tad annoyed.

"Do you believe in God, Dib?"

The question caught him off guard. "I guess...I was always skeptical about God. But, I'm not sure anymore."

"Why?" Zim asked, intrigued.

"Maybe it was all just an hallucination from the cold, but...I thought I saw my mother."

"Really? What was it like?"

"Beyond words." Dib said, thinking over the paradise he had witnessed. "Like...something you see out of a painting in a Christmas card. Almost too perfect. A place where it didn't seem like anything bad could happen. No one could get sick, or sad, or hurt." He paused to ponder it over. "Speaking of which, how is your leg?"

Zim looked down at his leg, which was now tightly bound in a splint. "Good, though I think it might not be broken after all."

Another moment of agonizing silence persisted after the comment, until Dib finally mustered enough courage to ask Zim, trying to make it sound as non-nonchalant as possible. "Did...you see anything, Zim?"

"Yes...but not quite the same."

Suddenly, the doors to the church opened with a mighty bang, and the room filled with bitter cold. Dib and Zim both turned to see what had caused the interruption. It was a sight that was indescribable...

* * *

><p><strong>WOW! It took almost a week to write this! In any case, the next chapter will be a tad different, and start pushing the story in the direction of the new arch. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.<strong>


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